Spin the Bottle
by a.lakewood
Summary: COMPLETE. Dean's been off on a hunt with John while Sam's been staying with Bobby and he comes back a month later, finding Sam in the midst of a game of spin the bottle. What happens when Sam spins the bottle and it lands on his brother? UNDERAGE WINCEST.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Spin the Bottle [1/2]  
**Author****:** alakewood  
**Warnings:** Underage Wincest (Sam's 15, Dean's 19).  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** ~1700  
**Summary:** Dean's been off on a hunt with John while Sam's been staying with Bobby and he comes back a month later, finding Sam in the midst of a game of spin the bottle. What happens when Sam spins the bottle and it lands on his brother?  
**Disclaimer:** As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

The bottle spins again in the dust on the floor, liquor sloshing inside as it slows, points at Sam. He laughs and shakes his head, climbing to his knees and leaning across the circle. "If I didn't know any better, Nick, I'd think you were rigging the game."

Nick blushes but leans towards Sam anyway, slotting their mouths together, lips on lips and nothing more, then they both sit back down. "I wouldn't even know _how,_" he admits.

"I wish you did," Alyssa, the girl to Sam's left (and Nick's girlfriend), says. "It's super hot."

Sam takes a swig from the bottle – just a few drinks left – and recaps it tightly before returning it to the dusty floor. A flick of his wrist sends the bottle spinning again. It goes 'round and 'round, everyone watching with rapt attention as it decelerates and finally stops, cap pointing right between Alex and Kristy, directly at the door. The group of seven teenagers exchange looks before a short noise – the clearing of a throat – draws their attention to the doorway.

Sam's eyes widen in surprise. "Dean." Can't help the smile that's so wide it actually hurts his cheeks. "Come sit, play. We're almost done; bottle's nearly empty."

Dean walks further into the old shed, takes in the sight, the game, his red-mouthed little brother sitting Indian-style in front of him. "We gotta get back to the house. D-"

"Just, let's finish the game," Sam interrupts, cutting Dean off before he can say 'Dad' and make what Sam's about to do seem very, very wrong instead of very, very hot to all of his new friends.

"Whatever." Dean rolls his eyes and approaches the circle, stands a little straighter with all the attention he's getting. Alex and Kristy move apart and the whole circle shifts to give Dean room to sit. He drops to his knees and looks at the bottle that's pointing at him. "Who's the lucky girl?"

There's a sudden burst of giggles and laughter around the circle as Sam gets to his knees. "We play with different rules," Sam says in explanation, left hand braced in the dust near the bottle. "It was _my_ spin. _Your_ lucky day."

"Sam." Dean's wide-eyed gaze surveys the group of teens, finding nothing but fascinated anticipation on their faces, like they don't know- And Dean realizes they have _no idea_ that he and Sam are brothers.

"What? Afraid you're gonna like it?" A teasing challenge that Sam knows his brother can't back down from, not in front of all these other kids.

"Just didn't want you to embarrass yourself in front of all your friends when you moan like girl." He meets Sam halfway, right hand reaching up into Sam's hair and holding tight, crushing their mouths together. He's caught by surprise when he feels Sam's tongue graze the seam of his lips and he opens to his little brother, breathes through his nose and expects Sam to assault him. But Sam abruptly pulls away, smirk of satisfaction curling the corner of his mouth upward, and Dean realizes the whimper he'd heard at the loss of contact had come from him. Again, everyone's staring, so Dean rocks back to sit on his heels. "Who's next?"

"Drink, then it's your turn. When the bottle's empty, the game's done," Sam tells him.

Dean nods, reaches for the bottle, and twists off the lid. There's not a whole lot left – enough for a couple more turns, maybe – but he's greedy, can still taste Sam on his lips. Two over-eager swallows and the bottle is empty. Dean licks his lips, cheap rum and Sam, and recaps the bottle. He returns it to the little pit it's created in the dust and dirt on the floor in the center of the circle, tests its weight and how fast it spins with a twist of his wrist without releasing it from his fingers. He eyes Sam and lets her fly. It's dead silent in the shed, every single person holding their breath and waiting. The bottle spins and spins and spins and does just what every one of them expects – or hopes, in Sam's case. It slows and stops, and it's pointing right at the youngest Winchester. "Game over, kids," Dean says, eyes not leaving Sam's pale, flush-cheeked face.

"But we gotta- gotta make sure you do it," Alyssa half-whines. "We gotta see you kiss him. It's like one of the rules."

Dean looks at the girl, recognizes the hungry lust in her eyes that's mirrored on the faces of all the other kids – tenfold on Sam's. These kids are too young to have voyeuristic kinks, but here they are, and there's Sam, waiting. What the hell, Dean thinks, and leans across the circle again.

Sam hastily crawls to his knees, too far gone – too drunk on that brief, too-chaste kiss – to play it cool, to feign apathy. His mouth is already open for Dean's when they meet over the empty bottle. Brief clash of tongues and teeth and Dean's pulling away.

"Okay, I mean it," he says, sounding just a little wrecked. "Game's over. Show's over. Time for you all to _go._"

"Yeah," Sam agrees, shaking his hair out of his eyes, and says "I'll see you guys later," even though he knows he probably won't.

Alyssa and Kristy share a look, both girls climbing to their feet. "That was so _hot_," Alyssa exclaims in a whisper as they start for the door. The other kids follow, Nick the last one out, gaze lingering on Sam as he stands in the doorway a moment before disappearing.

"How'd you manage to find so many _freaks_ for friends?" Dean asks, still on his knees in the dirt, inches from Sam.

Sam looks up at Dean, studies his brother's face, the green of his eyes. "They all weren't always like that. It started with me, Nick, and Alyssa, and kinda snowballed from there. They're together – Nick and Alyssa. It was the first week I was here and we all hit it off pretty good so she invited me over to her house and we were hanging out around a fire-pit in her backyard, drinking-"

"Which you _shouldn't_ be doing, Sam."

"_Anyway_, Alyssa – completely out of nowhere – says it would be hot if we kissed. Me and Nick. And I was like, whatever, and kissed him. I told her she had to kiss a girl. That was Kristy. Then it was her boyfriend, Alex. And the group got bigger. The games make it easier to _experiment_, you know?"

"You're fifteen, Sam. You don't need to be _experimenting._"

"But it's fun, Dean. Really, really fun. I mean, isn't that what we're doing?" He scoots closer on his knees until they're flush from thigh to chest, and pulls Dean's head down so he can claim his mouth. He rolls his hips up into Dean's and moans at the friction.

"Fuck, Sam," Dean grits out, hands moving to cup Sam's ass, keeping their bodies close.

"Sammy," Sam says. "Call me 'Sammy.'"

Dean's breath hitches and he kisses Sam bruisingly hard. "Sammy. Sammy."

"_Dean._" Sam gives himself over to the kiss, lets his hands roam whatever part of Dean he can reach. Palm flat against Dean's stomach, elbow bent at an awkward angle, his hand slips lower, tips of his fingers curling under the hem of Dean's t-shirt and dip beneath the waistband of his jeans.

"Jesus fuck, Sam," Dean gasps, grabbing hold of his brother's wrists. "Not here."

"Where? When?"

"Tonight. When Dad and Bobby go to the Roadhouse."

"He'll make us go-"

"No, I'll make sure of it, Sammy."

"You better." He bites at Dean's throat, a sharp nip over Dean's pulse-point and he feels the vein jump under his tongue. "Can't believe you were gone for a month. Felt like forever."

"You tellin' me you missed me, _Sammy_?"

"Yeah, Dean, missed you. Helped me realize how much I wanted this – you – though. I was laying in bed, and you weren't there so I could- you know."

"No, Sammy, I _don't._" He grins, traces his mouth along Sam's smooth jaw and up to his ear.

"Liar." Sam's wrists are still bound in Dean's hands, so he tilts his head further in invitation instead of taking Dean's head in his own hands and directing his mouth where he wants it. "So, it was like the third night I was here and I was- I was trying to think up a good fantasy. I was...just, kinda loose grip, getting hard. Then, suddenly I was thinking about you and my hand's on my dick and it was like, _oh._ And I couldn't stop. Had this picture of you in my head, thought about you being in that bed next to mine and hearing the sounds I was making, that you were getting hard, too. Then you crawled into my bed with me, put your hands on me. You jacked me off and-" Sam grinds the bulge in his jeans against Dean's hard thigh. "Your hand on me, it was so good. I don't think I've ever come so hard in my life."

"Shit, Sammy." He covers Sam's mouth with his own, thrusts his tongue inside that sweet, rum-flavored damp heat to taste Sam's teeth and tongue. "I'll show you how good it can be. I'll show you." He releases Sam's wrists, smooths down Sam's rucked-up tee and lets his hands linger on his little brother's slim hips. "We really should get inside though. Before Dad comes looking for us."

"Yeah," Sam says, teeth scraping over his bottom lip. "That would be _really_ bad."

Dean climbs to his feet and pulls Sam up with him. "Come on."

Sam grabs Dean's arm before he can turn away and leans up on his toes to catch Dean's mouth in a deep, desperate kiss. "Tonight – you promise?"

"I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Spin the Bottle [2/2]  
**Author****:** alakewood  
**Warnings:** Underage Wincest (Sam's 15, Dean's 19).  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 1500+  
**Summary:** Dean's been off on a hunt with John while Sam's been staying with Bobby and he comes back a month later, finding Sam in the midst of a game of spin the bottle. What happens when Sam spins the bottle and it lands on his brother?  
**Disclaimer:** As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

Sam stands in the front doorway of the house watching Bobby's old pickup rumble down the gravel drive towards the highway. "What did you tell him, Dean?"

"That I couldn't wait 'til we were alone so I could get my hands on you," Dean replies, hands skimming down Sam's sides as his mouth descends on Sam's neck.

"Dean."

He laughs at the eye-roll in his brother's voice and slips his hands into the pocket of Sam's hoodie to pull him close. "I told him you hadn't properly trained in a month and that there's an entire trunk full of weapons that need cleaned."

Sam turns in his brother's arms, eyes wide and incredulous. "What about-"

"Easy, kid. You and me? We've got all night." He drops his mouth down to Sam's and kisses him slow. "We'll do weapons in the morning."

"So...Can we go upstairs now?"

"Go lock the back door."

"Okay. Meet you up there?"

"Yeah, Sam, I'll meet you up there." He can't help but smile at Sam's enthusiasm, locking the front door before heading for the kitchen. He can hear Sam moving around upstairs as he fills a glass with water from the tap and takes a few long drinks. The rest goes down the drain and the glass goes in the drainboard before he heads up to Sam.

Sam's sitting Indian-style at the foot of his bed when Dean enters their room. "There you are."

"Here I am." Dean closes the door behind himself and kicks his boots off against the wall under the light switch before crossing to the bed to sit next to Sam. He scoots back towards the headboard and stretches his legs out in front of him. "Come here."

Sam does as he's told and crawls up the narrow mattress towards his brother, straddles Dean's thighs because that's the only way he can get close, and Dean parts them a little so Sam's ass falls into the vee they create. Sam hooks his arms around Dean's neck. "What now?"

"Kiss me." Dean's fingers slip through Sam's hair, nails gently grazing his scalp and over his nape, hands skimming down Sam's back to palm his ass and shift him just a little closer so they've got better friction.

Again, Sam obeys, presses his mouth to Dean's as he presses his knees to the sides of Dean's hips and pulls himself even closer. He trails little biting kisses over Dean's lightly stubbled jaw, open mouth against Dean's throat, teeth and tongue and suction, wanting to mark his brother.

Dean jerks roughly at one of the strings of Sam's hoodie, trying to guide his brother's attentions away from his neck. "Tell me what you want, Sammy."

Sam's grip tightens around Dean's neck. "You," he says, breath hot and damp against the sensitive flesh below Dean's ear. "Just want you." He hugs Dean hard and just holds on.

Dean's never felt anything this intense for another person in his life, never _loved_ somebody like this. It's amazing, a high he never wants to come down from. They haven't done much more than kiss and he's already consumed by this thing burning between them. "Sammy," he breathes, mouth gentle on Sam's.

Sam feels the shift, like the air in their small room has become heavier, sees something in Dean's eyes that's a promise, that says the things Dean can't. His arms slip from around Dean's neck, hands falling to the hem of his hoodie, pulling the sweatshirt and the tee underneath off in one quick movement before reaching for Dean's shirt. He sits back as Dean leans forward and let's Sam tug his t-shirt up and off, and there's skin-on-skin contact as Sam presses close for another kiss. Then Sam's hands work their way between their bodies. "I want- I wanna touch you." He reaches for Dean's fly. "Is that okay?"

"Fuck, Sam. Yeah." He watches Sam's face as he feels the button popping free of its hole, the zipper sliding down. Tug of the elastic band of his briefs and Sam's hand is on him. He watches Sam lick his lips, then Dean's chasing after his brother's tongue. And it's good. "So good, Sammy."

Sam tightens his grip, pumps his fist a little faster, adds a twist on the upstroke before his thumb swipes over the head of Dean's dick. "Want you- want you to touch me, too."

"Yeah. Yeah, Sammy, of course." Dean's hips thrust up nearly of their own accord and he reaches for the fly of Sam's jeans. But the way Sam's straddling his lap pulls the denim too tight and he can't get his hand inside Sam's underwear. "Lay down, Sammy. Gotta get your jeans off you."

Sam eagerly scoots back off Dean's lap and wriggles out of his jeans and underwear, struggles with the denim bunching around his ankles and kicks all the offending cotton away. He's back on Dean before his older brother can disrobe himself, steady fingers hooking in the waistband of Dean's briefs and jeans and pulling them both down as Dean lifts his hips. Sam presses an open-mouthed kiss to Dean's flat stomach on his way down his brother's body, swipes his tongue in a strip along the inside of Dean's thigh, nips the thin skin of his knee, lets his teeth graze the bone and tendons in his ankle.

"_Shit_, Sam," Dean pants, all but tackling Sam down to the mattress and aligning their bodies the best he can as he ravages Sam's mouth.

Sam lets loose with a litany of _Oh, god_ and _please_ and _Dean_ as his brother claims every bit of exposed flesh of Sam's body he can reach. Dean's mouth leaves a trail of fire in its wake, down Sam's throat and chest, lower across his stomach, and, "Oh, oh _fuck_, Dean," Sam moans as Dean's tongue – sinful fucking muscle – caresses the vein along the underside of Sam's achingly hard dick. "If you- I'm gonna- oh, oh, oh, god."

Dean's about ready to come himself with the sounds falling from Sam's mouth. He kisses Sam's thigh and climbs back up Sam's body, situates them so they're nearly chest-to-chest on their sides and gets his hand around both their dicks and Sam thrusts up into his fist. "Look at you," Dean breathes. "Gonna fuckin' kill me."

Sam's hand joins Dean's as he gasps into Dean's mouth and he knows exactly what his brother means. It's too much, can't keep going on like this without something...giving out, like his heart might _stop_ from the pleasure. He hooks his ankle behind Dean's thigh, searching for better leverage to draw his hips closer to Dean's. Then Dean's mouth is on his again, tongue writhing against his, stealing his breath as his heart hammers against the inside of his ribcage, and Dean's teeth catch and tug at his bottom lip. That's it, that does it, sends Sam right over the edge into weightless nothingness. He comes, crashes _hard_ into his orgasm, into Dean, his brother's name a benediction on his lips.

Dean feels Sam's body shudder against him, stares into Sam's hazel eyes as his brother quakes and comes between them, hot and slick, sighing his name, and Dean follows. He buries his face in Sam's neck when his brother's eyes slip closed, strokes them with a trembling hand as they come back down. "Sammy," he whispers, lips catching against the sweat-sticky skin over Sam's thrumming pulse.

Sam's leg slips further around Dean's, bony knee riding up along Dean's hip as he tucks in closer. He feels Dean's knuckles brush against his stomach, Dean's mouth whispering silent words against his throat. He clings tighter to Dean, to the feeling swelling in his chest, and searches out his brother's mouth. "I love you," he says against Dean's lips, meaning it with everything in him, with his whole heart and anything else he can give Dean.

Sam's hushed declaration doesn't sound nearly as silly as Dean had thought it would coming from his own mouth. But there's such honesty there, in Sam's wide, liquid hazel eyes that see _Dean_ - that have always seen him and not the facade he's built up. "Love you, too, Sammy." It's not weird, not silly. It's right and it's the truth.

Neither of them knows what their future holds, where this new, fragile thing they've created with breath and sweat and love will take them, but it makes them stronger. They've always been a good team, brothers for better or worse, and this latest aspect of their relationship only strengthens what's always been there and, lying in each other's arms, they feel unstoppable. Everything laid bare, no secrets, just them, the rise and fall of their chests and the beating of their hearts.

Sam sighs discontentedly when Dean leans up a little on his elbow to reach for the blanket half-falling off the bed at his feet and pulls it up over them. He lies back down and Sam curls into him once more, soft, open-mouthed kiss pressed to his chest over his heart before Sam kisses him properly on the lips. The desperation of their earlier kisses is gone, replaced with unhurried contentment.

They kiss slowly, learning, tasting, sharing heat until, without a care or worry of the coming day, sleep overcomes them.


End file.
